Imperfection
by Esteban T. Rodriguez
Summary: From Russia With love from Kronsteen's POV


Imperfection  
By Esteban T. Rodriguez  
  
Author's notes: This story takes place in From Russia, With Love (The movie, not the awesome Fleming book.) from Kronsteen's point of view which is probably the only Bond story that doesn't have Bond in it and this my first stab at the wonderful world of fan fiction so do be tolerant.  
  
HIS BALD OPPONENT stared at the board across from him in Venice.  
Viktor Kronsteen fought the temptation I squint as a joke from the glare his bald spot gave off and instead moved his piece across the board.  
"Check." He said as his move was copied on the board on the opposite wall for all to see.  
After a few minutes of thinking, which seemed to be a challenge for this man, his opponent moved.  
A waiter arrived with two glasses of water for the both of them. Kronsteen took his in a way that he held the coaster underneath the glass.  
"You are required at once." No identification except for a small cross between a skull and an octopus.  
He sighed as he tore the coaster in two. He would have liked to make this impotent fool who challenged Kronsteen suffer, but what his boss said went.  
He had manipulated the board in such a way that he could either win or lose with any move. Kronsteen chose the former.  
After a few minutes of suspense in thinking, the bald British man toppled his king, forfeiting the game.  
He stood and extended his hand. "I must congratulate you, sir. A brilliant coup."  
Kronsteen shook the dry monkey grip of a handshake and stormed off amidst the cheering crowd.  
He was escorted on to his boss' luxury yacht by a guard who held an M- 3 grease gun and a Smith & Wesson revolver. Kronsteen preferred the Browning .25; more stopping power and a larger magazine. Alas, Kronsteen was a tactician, not a gunman.  
The door in front of him slid open.  
"Come in, Kronsteen." His boss, a mysterious German who was always stroking a white fluffy cat said. His name was unknown and they all referred to him as Number One.  
"Sit down, Number three." He said. "While we listen to what Number five had devised for us."  
There she was. The bitch. Klebb. Colonel Rosa Klebb. She had defected from the Soviet intelligence division SMERSH that stood for Smiert Spionem, which in turn meant "Death to spies." Klebb had more importance to Number one than he did. She had taken his rank of Number three and reduced him to five, which was the position of one of this company's dead agents. They all worked for the Special Executive For Counterintelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion, or SPECTRE, as they were known. Kronsteen had never liked this caviar and vodka spoiled bitch.  
"I hope Kronsteen's efforts as director of planning will continue to be as successful as his chess." Klebb said, still sucking up to Number One.  
"They will be." Kronsteen said. "According to your instructions, I have planned for SPECTRE to steal from the Russians their new LEKTOR decoding machine. For this, we need the services of a female member of the Russian cryptographic section in Turkey and the help of the British Secret Service. Naturally, neither the Russians nor the British will be aware that they are now working for us."  
"Number three, is your section ready to carry out Kronsteen's directives?" Number one asked  
"Yes, Number One." Klebb said. "The operation will be organized according to Kronsteen's plan. I have selected a suitable girl from the Russian Consulate in Istanbul. She's capable, cooperative and her loyalty to the state is beyond question."  
"And you're absolutely sure she believes you're still the head of Soviet Intelligence?" Number One asked.  
"It is most unlikely she would know I'm now working for SPECTRE." Klebb said. "Moscow has kept my defection secret from all but a few members of the presidium."  
"For your sake, I hope so." Number One said. ""Kronsteen, you're sure this plan is fool proof?"  
"Yes, it is." Kronsteen said. "Because I have anticipated every possible variation of countermove."  
"But what makes you think that M, the head of British Intelligence will oblige you by falling in with your plan?" Number One said.  
"For the simple reason that this is so obviously a trap." Kronsteen said. "My reading of the British mentality is they always treat a trap as a challenge. And they couldn't pass up even the slightest chance of getting their hands on the LEKTOR decoder. They have wanted one for years."  
"Mm-hmm." Number One said. "All that you say could be true. What else?"  
"As an added refinement," Kronsteen said. "I think SPECTRE would also have the chance of a personal revenge for the killing of our operative Doctor No, because the man the British would almost certainly use on a mission of this sort would be their agent, James Bond."  
"Let his death be a particularly unpleasant and humiliating one." Number One said as he fed a dead Siamese fighting fish to his cat,  
"Good." Kronsteen said. "I shall put my plan into operation right away. And there will be not failure." Two weeks later. Kronsteen stood alongside Klebb as they faced the back of Number One's chair. Grant, the agent sent out to steal the LEKTOR should have arrived from the Orient Express. Kronsteen had liked Grant, who used a watch with hidden garotte wire in it. He had dubbed it to be breathtaking.  
"Three men were found dead on the train at Trieste." Number One said. "One of them was Grant. What have you to say, Number Five?"  
Kronsteen maintained a stoic expression, but inside, he was burning with rage. Klebb's incompetence had destroyed his operation. Now, he was to exercise the R in SPECTRE. "It was Klebb's choice. Her people failed."  
"It was your plan!" Klebb said, her voice shaking with fear. "They followed it implicitly!"  
"Impossible." Kronsteen said calmly. He was enjoying this. "It was perfect."  
"Except for one thing!" Klebb spat, her yellow, uneven teeth showing. "They were dealing with Bond!"  
Kronsteen snorted. "Who is Bond compared with Kronsteen?" He said.  
"Exactly." Number One said. "What have you to say to that, Number Three?"  
Klebb bowed her head as Morzeny; the chief of security came in.  
"Bond is still alive and the LEKTOR is not yet in our possession." Number One said. "I have already negotiated with the Russian to return it to them. We've agreed a price and SPECTRE always delivers what he promises. Our whole organization depends on our keeping those promises."  
The poisoned tip came out of Morzeny's shoe. Another piece of SPECTRE hardware: the 12-second poison intended for Klebb.  
"I warned you." Number One said. "We do not tolerate failure, Number Three. You know the penalty."  
"Yes, Number One..."Klebb whispered.  
Kronsteen couldn't believe his good fortune. Soon, he would have his old position back!  
"Our rules are very simple if you fail." Number One said.  
Morzeny's shoe flashed. It swerved at the last minute and the poisoned tip hit Kronsteen's calf.  
Kronsteen looked at number One. No! This wasn't supposed to happen! It wasn't his fault it was Klebb's! It wasn't fair Bond was so good! It wasn't fair that Klebb lived and he died! It wasn't fair she be favored!  
Those were Kronsteen's dying thoughts as he sank to the floor.  
It's not fair...  
  
The End Well, how was it! Good? Bad? OK? Pease review so I can know. Thank you for your time. 


End file.
